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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892394">An awkward gathering</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterofmayhem/pseuds/Sisterofmayhem'>Sisterofmayhem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:35:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterofmayhem/pseuds/Sisterofmayhem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort senses something is wrong with his followers during their latest meeting. Whatever could it be?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An awkward gathering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>An awkward gathering</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Malfoy manor, today, a quarter to two in the afternoon</em>
</p><p>To say the meeting was somewhat tense would be the understatement of the year. It was clear even before the start that all concentration had been shot. The Dark Lord, visibly annoyed by the whispered conversations among his followers as he was talking, tried to get through the agenda of the day to no avail. Those who sat nearest him could clearly hear him sighing, as he did his best to get everyone’s attention. Apparently he’d reached his limit after enduring almost 10 minutes of anxious murmuring and so he loudly thumped his fist on the table. That strategy clearly paid off.</p><p>“Very well,” he spoke with authority, “Obviously something ’s gotten all your knickers in a twist. It appears we cannot continue before this matter is addressed. Does anyone care to explain to me what is going on?”</p><p>As was to be expected, everyone except Bellatrix and Severus lowered their gazes and started fidgeting with their various writing utensils. The silence stretched on, and just as the Dark Lord was about to point out exactly how little he liked for his time to be wasted, Bellatrix grinned condescendingly at her fellow Death Eaters and cackled: “It’s this new virus that’s circulating, my Lord. It seems everyone’s afraid of it. For your infomation: I think it’s simply ridiculous.”</p><p>The Dark Lord looked around the table with narrowed eyes. It was true: Mulciber, Mcnair, Travers and the Carrows were all wearing the surgical face masks you could see on everyone’s faces these days. Others were clenching the masks in their fists or had put them on the table in front of them, as if not sure how to act. They were all looking at their leader with trepidation clear on their faces. Voldemort sighed, plainly tired of the meeting already.</p><p>“So I see. All right, how many of you are afraid of this so-called ‘Corona virus’?”</p><p>There were 22 of them, including the Dark Lord himself, and one after the other, and with a lot of hesitation, 14 hands went up into the air. Some were wringing their hands under the table, displaying their worries in a different way. Voldemort shook his head, like he couldn’t believe this was what he had to deal with.</p><p>“Do I need to remind you we are planning a war here,” he warned in a dangerous voice, “Would it be too much to ask of you to remain focused? Especially since it’s not proven at all that wizards are susceptible for this new freak disease that’s been contaminating the muggle news for the last few weeks. I daresay we have more important matters to discuss right now. Are we all in agreement?”</p><p>A few uttered their half-hearted, mumbled consent. Then Mulciber coughed, a quiet sound, and all eyes zeroed in on him as he began to speak: “I’m sorry, my Lord, but if I may say so, I think I have reason to feel worried. You see, my Lord, it’s been proven that my uncle has contracted the disease last week and he’s now in St. Mungo’s, coughing his lungs out. We’re not allowed to visit him, because it seems to be very contagious.”</p><p>Lord Voldemort steepled his long-nailed fingers and replied: “I assume from the fact that he is currently in St Mungo’s, that your uncle is a wizard and not a muggle?”</p><p>“Yes, of course, my Lord,” Mulciber answered, a little bit offended by the assumption.</p><p>“Is he pureblood or halfblood?” Voldemort inquired.</p><p>“Well, I don’t see why that would be important,” Mulciber sputtered, but of course he knew damn well why it mattered. Some people around the table were already shaking their heads at him for his faux pas.</p><p>“It’s a simple question,” Voldemort explained as he leaned forward, clearly enjoying the man’s mounting discomfort, “And so?”</p><p>“Half…,” Mulciber coughed, “Halfblood, my Lord.”</p><p>Voldemort sat back in his chair, spreading his arms with a big smile on his face, as to prove his point. <em>Purebloods didn’t need to fear this muggle disease</em>, his expression said, sweeping the fact that he himself was halfblood under the rug. Those who might have suspected, like perhaps Severus Snape, knew better than to contradict him.</p><p>There was always an exception to a rule, though, like Travers proved after only a second of silence.</p><p>“But,” the man spoke, unaware that the Dark Lord was impatiently gritting his teeth and clenching his fists at his words, “Mulciber here says they’ve already got 70 wizards in the emergency ward of St Mungo’s at the moment. Those can’t all be halfbloods, surely?”</p><p>“And why not?” Voldemort retorted darkly, teetering on the edge of losing his patience. Severus, right next to him at the table, shifted uncomfortably on his chair.</p><p>“Wait, what?” Alecto Carrow exclaimed, “70 wizards already? That’s a lot, isn’t it?”</p><p>Mulciber nodded gravely: “My uncle says some of them have even lost their magic.”</p><p>“You’re kidding!”</p><p>“Probably just temporary, but still…”</p><p>There was a short, impressed silence, as everyone digested this information. There was a purplish vain throbbing in Voldemort’s temple, not that anyone noticed.</p><p>“Mcnairs’ wife here has been tested yesterday, did you know that?” Mulciber added shrewdly, indicating Mcnair with his head, “Told me just before we came in, didn’t you?”</p><p>Mcnair looked like he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him.</p><p>“She’s fine,” he made to wave it away, “Nothing serious.”</p><p>“Come off it,” Mulciber scoffed, “You said you’ve never seen her this sick, pall. Barking like a puppy, she is.”</p><p>“Is that true, Mcnair?” Dolohov asked, surreptitiously moving his chair away from him. Mcnair frowned at Mulciber in dismay and reached for his glass of water on the table. He lowered his face mask to take a large gulp, then managed to choke on it and coughed up water all over the table. Those nearest to him gasped and all around you could hear the sound of scraping chairs on the floor as everyone collectively shied away from him.</p><p>“I’m… I’m fine,” Mcnair coughed, glaring at anyone who gave him the stink eye, as he tried to get himself together again, “It’s just…hrm… some water that went down the wrong way.” He put his face mask on again, but it took another half a minute before the worst of his coughing fit was over.</p><p>“You see, my Lord,” Travers resumed, “This is exactly what I mean. It’s obviously not safe for us all to meet like this.” Dolohov and one of the Lestrange brothers nodded in agreement. Voldemort put his chin in his hand and drummed his fingers on the table. The sound of his nails made a few people shudder unpleasantly.</p><p>“And why is that exactly?” Voldemort asked politely, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Well, a few of us wondered if it was really necessary to come together here, at Malfoy Manor. Nowadays, from what I heard, it’s easier to meet, you know, online.”</p><p>The fingers stopped drumming.</p><p>“Online?”</p><p>“Yes, my Lord,” Travers confirmed, and leaned forward, probably feeling encouraged, “Through Skype, or Teams. It’s all the rage now among young people. It is a, well, a muggle means of communication, but my son assured me it’s quite fast. It would be much more effecient. You’d only need a computer.”</p><p>“And how many of us do you think have such a devise at home, Travers?” the Dark Lord asked, “Or someone to explain how to operate it even?”</p><p>Travers fell silent for a moment, seemingly at a loss for an answer. It looked like he wasn’t about to put forward his son as an IT instructor for his little band of Death Eater companions.</p><p>“Well, you’ve made your point,” Travers resumed, and Voldemort was just about to let go a relieved breath when he continued, “But you see, I think a lot of us would feel safer if… I mean, how many are we today? Twenty? Twenty-five? While the muggle government has clearly dictated a rule of social gatherings with no more than 6 people.”</p><p>“Holy mother of Merlin, since when do we listen to what the muggle government has to say?” Bellatrix shouted hotly, “You’re a disgrace!”. At the same time the Dark Lord remarked drily: “Fine, but this can hardly be called a social gathering, Travers.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Travers lifted his shoulders, an insulted air about him, “I’m just saying…We all have parents, and grandparents. We wouldn’t want anything happening to them.” He glared at Mcnair, who chose that moment to be pulled back into his coughing fit.</p><p>“I can’t believe I’m asking,” Voldemort sighed tiredly, “So what do you need so you’d all feel more comfortable and we can finally move on with this blasted meeting?”</p><p>Travers looked at Mulciber, Dolohov, then Mcnair.</p><p>“Well, for starters, I would appreciate it if we could enlarge this table right here, so we can all sit at an approriate distance from each other. What was it again? 5 or 7 foot?”</p><p>“Better make it 7,” Dolohov nodded in approvement, “Just to be on the safe side.”</p><p>Voldemort picked up his wand from the table and looked around expectantly, waiting for everyone to get off their chairs. Within a few seconds he’d expanded the table to twice its’ size, and everyone went to sit down again.</p><p>“Better now?” he asked, and as Travers nodded gratefully, he continued, “What next?”</p><p>“Erm, perhaps,” Mulciber announced, “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d…”</p><p>Mcnair interrupted him with another round of deep, uncontrollable barks.</p><p>“Everything all right there, Mcnair?” Yaxley asked, a bit amused it seemed.</p><p>“Yes,” Mcnair croaked, “Su- cough cough- sorry. Please continue.”</p><p>“You were saying, Mulciber?”</p><p>As he made a show of leaning away from Mcnair, Mulciber proposed: “Maybe we should all be wearing face masks as well. I mean, this Johnson guy is advising it on the news every day now. I brought some spare masks with me for those who’ve forgotten theirs at home.”</p><p>Voldemort watched as masks were passed down the table. There was some snickering, a few people rolled their eyes , but in the end everyone obliged. 21 pair of eyes were blinking sheepishly at each other.</p><p>“It feels hot already,” someone complained, “I don’t know if I can wear these for the entire meeting.”</p><p>“We should’ve brought our Death Eater masks,” someone else remarked, “Would at least have been a lot cooler.”</p><p>“Those have holes in it, dumbass,” another one said, “It would have done nothing for our protection.”</p><p>“Erm, shouldn’t you be wearing one too, my Lord?” It was Alecto Carrow who had dared to ask the question.</p><p>“And how do you propose he do that, Alecto,” Severus drawled, “when he hasn’t got a nose to keep it from sliding down?”</p><p>“Severus,” Bellatrix gasped indignantly, “You can’t just say something like that about the Dark Lord!”</p><p>“Mcnair,” Yaxley complained, “I can’t hear myself think over your coughing. Can’t you go die somewhere else?”</p><p>“Show some respect, Yaxley,” Avery frowned, ‘The man’s wife is ill. How would you feel?”</p><p>“Exactly!” Mulciber shot back, “What’s he doing here, besides contaminating us all? Look at him, he just can’t stop coughing!”</p><p>“I can’t be sick!” Alecto shifted nervously on her seat, “I have to take care of my mother.”</p><p>“Well, me neither!”</p><p>“Oh, fuck it all!” Voldemort shouted.</p><p>Before anyone else could say something, the Dark Lord snatched his wand from the table and shot a spell at Mcnair. It happened so fast nobody even saw what happened. On Mcnair’s chair was now a smoking, small pile of ash. The silence was instant as everyone gaped at the spot where Mcnair had been sitting.</p><p>Voldemort calmly placed his wand back on the table.</p><p>“Better,” he nodded to himself. His eye fell on the piece of paper in front of him. He picked it up and studied it for a moment.</p><p>“Now, what’s next?” he mumbled absentmindedly, “Ah, I do believe we have to discuss our current potions stock. We might need Felix Felicis for our next mission. Incidentally, any questions on that?”</p><p>He looked up from his paper and scanned the crowd, but no questions came forward.</p><p>The rest of the meeting went by without any obstacles.</p><p>FIN</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written with utmost recpect for people who have suffered during this worldwide epidemic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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